Kill Angels
by AlongCameASpider
Summary: Angela's past. Rated for language and sexual content. Complete.
1. Part 1

Kill Angels

By: AlongCameASpider

Part 1: Angela's Lament

_Daddy, no! Stop!_

She quivered uncontrollably, curled in the corner, as he approached her. His appearance was very intimidating and he used it to his advantage. His face was like stone, cold and solid, and never seemed to show any emotions. His shoulders were wide and his arms were bulging. His eyes burned through her, paralyzing her with agonizing terror, with the flames of illicit desire.

Tears streamed down her bright red cheeks and she began to struggle as he snatched her wrist. He twisted and made her cry out. Grabbing her other wrist he pulled her forcefully to her feet. He shoved her against the hard wall and pressed his body against hers. She sobbed and squirmed; she could feel his anxiousness between her legs.

"Now, now, Angela, play nicely." he hissed in her ear.

Angela screeched and tried desperately to claw at his face, but he had too strong of a hold on her. Not only that, she was feeling weak, exhausted from crying and fighting. She wouldn't be able to escape even if she did break free of him. The door was locked and he had the key. Her bedroom had only one window that was too small for her to fit through, purposely by daddy dearest.

A wicked smile snaked its way across his face. He allowed her hands to flow through his and drop to her sides. She had finally realized he will have what he wants and she cannot do anything to prevent it. She just might be a smart girl after all, he thought.

_I'm beyond all hope…_

"I, I'm sorry… I, I was just…" he scared the living hell out of me.

I had been examining a grave, which belonged to a guy I'd never even heard of, trying to find my mother. I held my breath with each stone I looked at, hoping it wasn't hers. The man seemed to have come out of nowhere. She didn't expect anyone else to be in the cemetery. No one dared go near Silent Hill. Not if they knew what was good for them.

The man had a face much like her father's, rough and unforgiving. Wisps of dirty blonde hair fell in his eyes. Yes, his eyes. This man's eyes were different than those of her wicked parent. They were soft and glassy. The eyes of someone who has been through many hardships.

"No, it's okay! I didn't mean to scare you," his voice was deep but hushed, "I'm kind of lost."

I wrinkled my nose, "Lost?"

"Yeah, I'm looking for Silent Hill…" he pointed across the cemetery to a section of rickety iron fence, "Is this the right way?"

I looked in the direction he was indicating and grimaced. Why on earth would he want to go there?

"Uh, yeah," I answered uneasily, "It's hard to see with this fog, but there's only the one road. You can't miss it."

He turned to leave, "Thanks."

I took a step toward him, reaching out slightly, "But-"

He turned back to look at me, his eyebrows raised. "I, I think you'd better stay away…" I stuttered.

"Is it dangerous?" his voice raised on the last word.

"Maybe…" I looked around the deserted cemetery, "And it's not just the fog either…"

He waved his hand, "Okay. I'll be careful." Again, he turned to leave.

I grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and whined, "I'm not lying!"

"No, I believe you," he pulled away gently, "It's just, I guess I don't really care if it's dangerous or not. I'm going either way."

I flattened my brow into a puzzled look, "But… why?"

"I'm looking for someone. Someone very important to me. I'd do anything if I could be with her again." I could hear the sadness in his voice. "Me too," I said turning my gaze to the ground, "I'm looking for my mama-I mean my mother. It's been so long since I've seen her. I thought my father and brother were here, but I can't find them either… I'm sorry; it's not your problem."

"No," he placed his hand on my shoulder for a brief moment, "I, I hope you find them."

_No one will ever forgive me…_

The pain had been intense, unbearable almost. Starting at the outermost parts then shooting up through her. It felt as though he was ripping her up. Each of his movements was just as painful as the first. And he loved that.

She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. Her finger nails dug deep into the meaty skin on his shoulders, enough to draw blood. Silent tears began to run down her cheeks. They way he was holding her left no way to escape or to struggle. She closed her eyes tight and prayed; prayed that it would be over soon and he'd leave her alone.

When he finally finished he sat at the bedside, running his fingers through her soft auburn hair as she sobbed uncontrollably. Before leaving Angela's room he kissed her forehead tenderly and whispered, "I love you."

'_Burn in hell, asshole!' _is what she would have loved to say.

But instead she kept it to herself. Thoughts have become precious. They were something of hers and only hers. No one else could steal them so savagely away.

He was gone now. She could hear him out in the living room, whistling as he read the days paper. Her mother, no doubt, was at the bar and would not return until midnight or later. She would stagger in and pass out on the couch. Dad will then carry her to the bedroom and help himself. They would both wake up early and have coffee together at the rickety kitchen table. They'd make small talk, then daddy would be off to work. Mommy would stay home until five in the evenings. Sometimes cleaning, sometimes working on her failed novel project, but always bitching about her hangover. Then it was off to the bar and the vicious cycle would continue.

Angela sat in her father's fluids with her knees drawn close to her. She was still bare and the cold winter wind leaking under the window make her pale flesh crawl. She shivered and hugged herself tighter.

_I'm sure that I'm still laughing. Aren't I?_


	2. Part 2

Part 2: Immortal

__

Even Mama said it…

She could feel his eyes. Yes, they were glued to her. Burning her. That's what he wanted. He wanted to harm her any and every way he could. He intended to make it so she feared no only him, but every man she met. She would never forget him, escape him. The flame raged on.

She squirmed in her chair; she was still sore from the other evening. He hadn't touched her since then. Only stare. Occasionally giving a lustful smile but never touching.

__

'Thank you, God,' she silently prayed.

Rob shoveled the hard, blackened food in his mouth, barely taking any time to breathe. Angela only pushed it around with her fork. Thomas Orosco was a pretty lousy cook. Always had been. He burned everything he made. She wouldn't have been surprised if he even managed to burn cold cereal. And then there was her brother, Rob, who ate anything set in front of him.

"You'd best eat your dinner before it gets cold, Angela," Thomas said. His dark eyes still locked on her.

"I'm not hungry," she said pushing her plate away, "I don't feel well."

Her father frowned, "Maybe you should go to bed and get some rest."

The caring tone of his voice didn't fool her. She slid from her chair and dashed to her bedroom.

__

I deserved what happened

I laid on the damp, torn carpet floor in a room of an abandoned apartment. A mirror the size of the wall behind it rose in front of me. With a blank expression I twirled a knife on its point. I stared into the mirror; I didn't like what I saw.

There! In the doorway! Someone, something was there!

"Oh… It's you." I said lazily. It was only the man from the cemetery.

"Yeah," he paused, "I'm James."

"Angela…" I replied in an airy tone.

He nodded, "Angela, I don't know what you're planning, but there's always another way."

"Really," that made me want to laugh, "But, you're the same as me. It's easier to just run. Besides, it's what we deserve."

"No," he shook his head and took a step back, "I'm not like you."

A flame rapidly grew inside me. Was it hate? Was it disgust? I couldn't really tell.

"Are you afraid?" I was getting pretty cocky, "I, I'm sorry."

James frowned, "It's alright… Did you find your mother?"

It was my turn to frown, "Not yet… She's not anywhere…"

"Did she live in this apartment building?" he was asking what I couldn't answer.

"I don't know." was all I could say.

His face bore a puzzled expression, "So, all you know is she lived in this town?"

Now I was the one puzzled, "What did you say?" I began to stand up, "How do you know that?"

"Well," he started, "I just figured, 'cause this is where you're looking for her. How else would I know?"

"Yeah…" I was disappointed.

"Am I right?" What the heck was this, twenty questions?

I rubbed the bridge of my nose between my thumb and index finger, "I'm so tired."

"So why did you come to this town anyway?"

__

'Okay, enough about me.' I shook my head, "I, I'm sorry. Did you find the person you're looking for?"

He frowned as reached for and dug through his wallet, "Not yet," he pulled out a photo and showed it to me, "Her name's Mary. She's my wife…"

She was pretty, I had to give her that. Her face was pale with soft features and bright, cheerful eyes. She had beautiful light brown hair that was pulled back into a loose bun, her bangs and a few stray hairs hung in her face. Her big smile showed off her bright white teeth. I hadn't seen her around.

I shook my head, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said putting the photo away, "Anyway, she's dead. I don't know why I think she's here."

Hey, hold up! Did he just say, "…She's dead?"

He smiled weakly, "Don't worry, I'm not crazy. At least, I don't think so…"

I started walking toward the doorway, the guy was a loony, "I've got to find my mama." _'Smooth, Angela.'_

He raised his eyebrows, "Should I go with you? This town's dangerous. Now I know what you meant back there in the cemetery."

__

'You think?' "I'll be alright by myself. Besides, I'd just slow you down," I looked down at the knife still in my hand, "Will you hold this for me? If I kept it… I'm not sure what I might do." The horrible truth.

"Sure. No problem." he took a step toward me and reached out.

My reaction was unexpected by us both. I screamed and stumbled backward, tripping over an end table and nearly falling on my ass, the knife aimed for his heart.

"I, I'm sorry… I've been bad," I said as tears gathered, "Please don't…" I set the knife down on the deadly table and fled.

__

Can we play the game your way

Why did things have to be that way? Father visited again, late, after Rob went to bed. Daddy now lay beside her, his naked body pressed tightly against hers, his arms wrapped around her so she couldn't get away. She cried herself to sleep that night, from physical and emotional pain.


	3. Part 3

Part 3: Bloodstained

He was here, she knew he was. But where was he hiding? Under the bed? No… Wait! The closet! One bugging eye staring out the keyhole, kneeling or sitting on a stack of clothing enjoying the show.

She was curled in a ball, hugging her knees to her chest and rocking back and forth; her eyes seemed to pop out of her skull as she gazed absently at the closet door. She was sweating; she ground her teeth; she breathed so heavily it sounded almost as if a dog were growling.

She had tried to escape so many times… Each attempt ending with him dragging her by her hair back to the apartment. He'd lock her in her bedroom for a day or two, with no food or water, and would refuse to let her out for any reason.

Angela's mother knew of her husband's affair and of the abuse her daughter was suffering. And all she had to say to Angela was: "You deserve it." Hearing something that cold and spiteful from her own mother killed her inside.

_So outrageous the toll…_

"No, daddy! Please, don't!"

That cry, there was no mistaking that it was the voice of Angela Orosco. The sound echoed from a room at the end of the hallway. James ran to her; newspapers crunched beneath his feet with each pounding step. When he burst through the door he couldn't believe what he saw.

He half expected, judging from he screams, to find Angela huddled in the corner. What blew his mind was the hideous being before him. It was a frame being carried four stubby legs. On top of the frame were two human like figures, one on top of the other; the one of the top was more prominent. Rotten flesh leaking pus was stretched tightly across this strange creature.

James raised his shot gun and fired. The crack of the gun was deafening. The pained cry of the monster was almost as earsplitting as the gunfire. It rose up, revealing a flat underside with a small hole in the center, and prepared to charge. This move surprised James; he was expecting it to spit acid or another similar act. Before the creature moved James shot again.

Whatever it was, it took several shots before it finally fell to the floor motionless. Before he had time to do anything else, Angela was repeatedly driving her foot deep into the monster's side. It let out a sick groan. She moved quickly to the opposite side of the room, grabbed the decent sized television set, and smashed it down on the creature.

"Angela! Relax!" James said loudly as he reached out to her.

"Don't order me around!" she snapped at him.

James stumbled back, "I'm not trying to order you."

"So, what do you want then?" fire blazed in her eyes, "Oh, I see, you're trying to be nice to me, right? I know what you're up to. It's always the same. You're only after one thing…"

"No," James frowned, "That's not true at all."

Angela's expression changed. She was now looking rather depressed, "You don't have to lie. Go ahead and say it," she sobbed, "Or you could just force me. Beat me up like he always did."

Angela dropped to her knees, "You only care about yourself anyway."

For a moment, all that could be heard was her sobs. Then, she finally managed to say, "You disgusting pig…"

James put a hand on her shoulder, "Angela…"

Angela sprung to her feet, her rage returning to her, "Don't touch me! You make me sick!"

A wicked smile spread across her face, "You said you're wife, Mary, was dead, right?"

"Yes," James looked down at his feet, "She was ill…"

"Liar!" she growled, "I know about you… You didn't want her around anymore. You probably found someone else

She swiftly moved out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

"That's ridiculous…" James whispered, "I never…"

_Undress in the dark. And hide from you. All of you._

She sat and stared blankly at the floor in front of her. She was deep in thought, trying to find a way to end her suffering. One way kept running through her mind. She tried to push it aside and come up with something else.

She leapt to her feet. She had it. With light feet she moved quickly to the kitchen. Her dad was in the living room, fast asleep in a reclining chair. She rummaged through the drawers of silverware and cooking utensils.

'Where is it, where is it?' she thought, starting to panic somewhat. Finally, she found what she was looking for. She wrapped her fingers around the handle and pulled out a knife with a very sharp and long blade.

With the knife in hand she turned and glared at the man asleep in the living room. She grinned wickedly.


	4. Part 4 Final

Part 4: Into the Fire

She stood staring at a strange portrait on the wall. It looked like a human torso that had been cut up and stitched back together again. He just hoped that wasn't what it was.

The once grand staircase they stood in, it's carpeted stairs and bright white walls, was now engulfed in flames. Angela stood about half way up the staircase, seemingly unaware of the fire around her. James took a few steps up; she heard him and turned to him.

"Mama! Mama, I was looking for you."

James took a few steps back.

"Now you're the only one left. Maybe then… Maybe then I can rest."

Angela moved closer to James as he continued to back down the stairs.

"Mama, why are you running away?"

She reached out, touching his face and shoulders with her dry, rough hands. She leaned in close, stared for a moment, and then quickly pulled away from him and jumped back.

"You're not Mama! It's you… I, I'm sorry." She placed her hand in the middle of her chest and turned her attention to the floor.

"Angela, no…" James said in a quiet voice.

Her eyes began to water, tears gathering, "Thank you for saving me. But, I wish you hadn't… Even Mama said it… I deserved what happened…"

James winced, imagining his own mother saying that to him after going through something so traumatic, "No, Angela, that's wrong!"

Angela looked up, tears streaming down her cheeks, and gave a small smile, "No, don't pity me. I'm not worth it…" She paused for a moment and then spoke again in a lighter voice, "Or maybe you think you can save me? Will you love me? Take care of me? Heal all my pain?"

James looked at the floor. He didn't know what to say. He didn't want to tell her that it couldn't work like that, it might hurt her more. And he didn't want to lie and tell her that he would do what she was asking.

"That's what I thought. James," she held out her hand, "give me back that knife."

James shook his head, "No. I, I won't…"

Angela smiled again, her eyes seemed to sparkle, "Saving it for yourself?"

She turned and began to walk up the staircase. James' eyes widened.

"Me? No… I'd never kill myself… It's hot as hell in here." he said pulling at the collar of his shirt.

Angela stopped and turned back, "You see it too? For me, it's always like this."

She continued up the staircase and was swallowed by the flames. Unsure if the fire was real or just both of their imagination, he didn't dare follow her. James frowned, let out a long sigh, and left the staircase hall through the door he originally had come in.

_The truth can only be learned by marching forward_

Angela sat with her back up against the damp brick wall. She had her knees drawn up to her chest and was hugging them tightly. The rain hadn't yet washed all the blood from the knife she still clutched tightly in her hand. She smiled slightly and gave a weak laugh, she was finally free of her father.

Angela had approached him on light feet, she didn't want to wake him and make problems for herself. But when she thrust the knife forward she missed her intended target and instead plunged the knife deep into his left shoulder. He screamed and kicked his legs out, hitting Angela and causing her to fall. Lucky for her, she took the knife down with her.

He grabbed at his wound and jumped to his feet. Blood squirt from the puncture with each beat of his heart. Thomas charged toward her. Moving quickly, Angela scrambled to her feet and moved out of his path. He fan into and fell over a table, knocking plates from it and causing the to shatter on the floor. She strode over to him as he rolled onto his back. He saw her coming and put his hands up to stop her in mid-stab.

Thomas began to shake. He was losing too much blood and was beginning to feel lightheaded. He didn't know how much longer he could hold her off. Not want to fight him, Angela made a fist with her free hand and, hoping he would grab for his newly injured parts, crammed that fist into his groin as hard as she could manage.

While he didn't make a move his arms gave out and Angela was able to successfully able to drive the knife through the middle of his neck. His arms dropped away from her and she raised the knife again and again, even after he ceased moving. She pulled the knife from his corpse and fled.

_All that remains is despair, and a future of meaningless tomorrows_

_----------  
Finished_


End file.
